


But I can’t go back, back to the way I was

by angelica_barnes



Series: It’s a Long Way Down [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik - Musician
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Paranoia, Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: zayn doesn't know when he became... this.he doesn't really care.about much of anything, really.





	But I can’t go back, back to the way I was

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "The Way I Was" from Jem & The Holograms

Zayn lies awake in bed most nights, which is strange. Sleeping in was always just a given when he was younger, it was something he never had to ask for and you never had to ask about, because that was just who he was. 

And was - he hated that word - it was a was because he isn’t that way now. 

Maybe he should wonder what happened.

 

 

-

 

Zayn finds himself locked away. That’s funny, isn’t it; he thinks this as he laughs, the high of his nervous system unleashed and running free, and his blue-eyed friend is beside him, rolling around and giggling, and Zayn grins.

How can you be locked away when you have a key?

How can you be invisible when everyone is watching you?

How can you disappear when no one will let you go?

Maybe he should stop asking himself, he thinks, but then he’d never know the answer.

But he also asks himself if he wants to.

 

 

-

 

Zayn kisses people sometimes, and usually he’s not sure who they are. That’s another strange thing - the curly-haired one’s in love with love and so is he, but their paths are intertwined and paralleled. He knows no one else who will understand, but Curly doesn’t either, though he should.

And suddenly Zayn notices the eyes on him, whereas they’ve always been in the back of his mind, and the one pair he’s looking for doesn’t stare back at him, but they’re brown, he’s sure of it.

He’s surrounded by Curly, Blue Eyes, Irish, and Sensible, and Sensible’s his favorite because that one call him Quiet.

That means he knows the truth, or at least a tiny part of it.

 

 

-

 

Zayn sleeps with a head full of angry, morbid thoughts, and everyday he wakes up only to stare at his empty, caught red hands. Sometimes he’ll twist his wrists, just to see the backs of his palms, and to trace the lines of fortune that have imprinted themselves there, and once someone told him they meant good luck.

He doesn’t understand how he’s supposed to believe that now, considering the mess he represents.

And he feels okay, he thinks that’s the emotion, when a certain one holds him and tells him that yes, he’s a mess but he’s a beautiful one.

 

 

-

 

Zayn stares up at the stars, eyes reflected back at him but they’re his own this time, and he hears the breathing of seven billion souls as they gain on him; he’s been running for years, maybe his whole life.

One day his time will run out, the clock will stop ticking, and his pulse will be gone but maybe he’ll finally be able to breathe. And maybe when he dies, brown eyes will be the last thing he sees, staring at him with a soft pity; if he’s lucky, which he isn’t, maybe love.

And he reaches out to wrap his fingers around another’s, and something Curly described as warmth floods through him, and suffocation suddenly feels like quite a likely option.

But it’s in a good way - don’t ask.

 

 

-

 

And Zayn finds himself staring the mirror one night, finding a pretty made-up man, of cigarettes and tired eyes, of purple bruises and hesitation, and wow, he thinks; where did he go?


End file.
